


you're such a child!

by sultrygoblin



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Inner Dialogue, One-Sided Attraction, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22892353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultrygoblin/pseuds/sultrygoblin
Summary: ““Hey! could you do a Roman x Fem Reader where the reader realizes she’s falling in love with Roman?” @thehybrid666
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	you're such a child!

**Author's Note:**

> i’m sorry it’s so short, i’m still getting used to roman and i knew i needed to get this out to you soon or i’d obsess over it and it’d be months. so if this isn’t to your liking, cash in another for an IOU

Our conversations seem more like a carefully choreographed dance than anything else. We move around each other, not willing to get too close, but not willing to pull away. We dodge questions, keeping the banter light. And, in the rare moments where we connect, where everything is open and honest, I wonder why it’s not easier. And if it’s all worth it.

But I think it must be. I’m sure it is. It’s why I stay isn’t it. Why I do whatever twisted little thing pops into Roman’s head? Not a twisted sadistic devotion but something else. Almost pure. I’ve never felt pure before and if this is how it feels…it doesn’t really matter though, does it? I mean, besides in the grand cosmic scheme of nothing really mattering, on the smaller scale it doesn’t matter.

Zsaz has a better chance than I do, which is frightening, upsetting, and heart breaking on a few different levels. So it couldn’t be that.

Except it could. It always could. Fuck, like I could control it or something.

“Darling, darling,” elegant gloved hands clap softly in front of my face.

The smile melts on with ease, “How may I be of service, sire?”because that is my job.

I do or acquire any little thing he asks of me. Shrunken heads? Jivaroan’s weren’t ones to part with such sacred belongings and I know a guy who knows a guy. Information on a certain super’s songbird daughter, kids are easiest to pay and slip by unnoticed. Funnily enough, finding a tailor he liked had truly been my hardest tasks in my many years of voluntarily servitude to the man. Or so I thought?

He pouted, which was never good, t meant something had gone wrong or was about to go wrong. I will admit his tantrums tried my patience, mostly because it often seemed to be more of an act than anything. It had always worked before, why should it stop now?

“Why so glum?” taking my face in his hands, this isn’t how it should be.

I think of crimson sheets and satin. Of skin against skin. Not my head being jerked around and examined as if I were a pet and not something capable of sophisticated thought, “I’m not. Why should I be?” forcing my smile wider, hoping I can force it into my eyes.

Because I am a pet, aren’t I? Hopefully devoted, maybe- let’s stick with hopelessly devoted to a man who thought of me as less than in so many way, and I thin it’s where I belong? I can’t let the moment of clarity stick around, hopefully, I’ll summon it up later. I never do though.

“No, no,” he’s tsking, preparing to tell me how I feel. Or at least, what he thinks I feel and I’ll agree. He can’t know what I could barely admit to myself, “This just like a few years ago, when you were down in the dumps because of the boy, oh, what was his name?”

“Dick,” he expects an answer and it slips out, I want to take it back. That’s mine, only mine, “I’m fine, I pinky promise?” it’s the only thing I can think of, holding up my fist with the pinky extended, “Just tired and my back’s killing me.”

He nods, moving my head back and forth, “Take my card, go get yourself a massage,” seeming almost disappointed in himself, “Get yourself a pretty new outfit and meet me at the club. I should’ve known, I’ve been working you far too hard. Zsaz, haven’t I been working her too hard?”

It kills him, I can see it staring over Roman’s shoulder, his face turning sour and then angry even as his voice remained agreeable and almost worried, “She looks a bit tired, you’re right.”

“Oh fuc-”

“See, you’re wound up tight,” hands resting my shoulders, yanking my gaze from my sworn enemy, at least right now, “We can’t have that. _I can’t have that,_ ” spinning me and pushing me towards the door, “Don’t be late.”

And that’s it. That’s how it’s always going to be. Doing his bidding for shelter, for fancy clothes, for the barest of scraps. Devoid of a social life, romance, having even a fucking moment for myself. And yeah, I think I might be in love with him and right now, it’s enough. But one day it’s isn’t going to be anymore. Either he’ll get bored of me and let Zsaz finally have his fun or I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.

But for now, our conversations are a carefully choreographed dance. We move around each other, willing to get too close, willing to pull away. We dodge questions, keeping the banter light. I wonder if it’s all worth it. Maybe it’s not, but life is a bit easier with a black card.


End file.
